Schwarz and Weiss People
by Shoori
Summary: Everyone from Schwarz and Weiss are happily snoozing, alone in their beds...except for one bored telepath. SchuxYohji, AyaxCrawford, OmixNagi, Ken, Farf


Schwartz and Weiss People ****

Schwarz and Weiss People

Warnings: Hmmm. Well, horribly, totally and horrifically OOC, particularly with Schuldig. It kind of shifts focus midway through when angst insisted on rearing its stupid head. Mostly, though, it's fluffy parody crap. Language warning (surprise, surprise). Also, the focus is mainly SchuldigxYohji, along with OmixNagi, AyaxCrawford, and Farfie/Ken (sort of). Enjoy! Remember, this is my first attempt at Weiss fiction! Be gentle!

**__**

Song lyrics

Dream lyrics

***

****

Schuldig slowly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Careful not to make any noise, he ghosted out of his room, tip-toed down the hall past the rooms of the other Schwartz members, and made his way down to the kitchen.

Once downstairs, he was comfortable making a little more noise. He had checked, of course, to be sure that everyone was sleeping before he left his room, but he really didn't want to wake anyone up.

It would ruin his fun. Or at least postpone it.

After a few short minutes, minutes where he hovered nervously over the microwave, hoping the sounds wouldn't wake the others, everything was ready. Schuldig poured his freshly prepared snack into a large bowl and sneaked back up the stairs. He closed his door noiselessly behind him, and slid under his covers again. He arranged the pillows so he was reclining comfortably, pulled the blankets up to his chin, and balanced the bowl on his stomach. He grabbed a fistful of the popcorn, shoved it into his mouth, and closed his eyes with a happy sigh.

Showtime.

**__**

One more day down

Everybody has those days

There are some advantages to being a telepath.

Actually, as Schuldig was willing to admit, there were a lot of advantages. 

Take today, for example. 

The big showdown. 

Good against evil. 

Light against darkness.

Weiss against Schwarz.

Well, one of the big showdowns. They happened every week or so. Nothing much changed. 

A few random people died, often people to whom various Weiss members had some sentimental attachment. 

Light glinted off Bradley's glasses. 

Someone cried. Usually Omi. 

Weiss members seethed with righteous indignation and vowed revenge.

Ho-hum. _Bor_-ing. 

****

Where one sweet song's

Just enough to clear my head

Just like always. Except for one little detail.

Schuldig always read Weiss' thoughts, of course. But since they were usually fighting at the time, all you got were battle thoughts.

Not today, though. Woo-ee!

It's good to be a telepath.

Schuldig was so bowled over by the hot, wet and juicy thoughts running through the minds of Weiss that he almost screwed up the fight. Just as amazing were the thoughts he picked up from his fellow teammates, which were running along the same line.

Who'd have thunk it?

He'd thought that he was the only one with the hots for the enemy.

Guess not!

Maybe it was his fault - it could be that his own fantasies had made a mark on the minds he had visited. 

Regardless of where the ideas came from, though, this battle had been half-hearted at best, since both assassin teams were obsessed with thoughts of their opponents in very different positions than they were in at the moment.

Much more…contorted…positions.

And Schuldig got to share it all.

Well, all of them except Farfie and young Ken. They were as earnestly battle-focused as ever, and disgusted at the way the fight was turning out.

The fight ended early, each side deciding to cut their losses as soon as possible and staggering home for cold showers and self-recrimination.

Schuldig had taken the longest, coldest shower of them all. It had almost killed him to wait, wait until he could feel that they were all fallen asleep.

This would make up for everything. For all the mockery, the scorn, the late nights, the bills from the dry cleaner for bloodstained suits which Brad refused to include on the expense accounts, the utter lack of medical insurance or a 401K plan from Estat, even for the occasional beating with golf clubs.

This would make it all worth while.

Schuldig giggled delightedly as he stuffed another handful of popcorn in his mouth, ignoring the few pieces the fell down onto his chest. He reached out with his mind to check and be sure that everything was in place.

**__**

Fall on real life

Is anybody left there sane?

This was one of the most fun things in the world. People who looked and acted so cunning, so clever, so rational and intelligent, had no control at all over their own subconscious minds. In their sleep, in their dreams, their deepest and darkest desires and fears, and their most ludicrous worries and thoughts and ideas, had free reign.

It was great theater.

Schuldig started close to home, slipping noiselessly into the minds of his team mates.

_Brad sighed with pleasure and turned slowly around in a circle. He was in a large, green field. But the green wasn't the fresh greenness of grass, oh no. It was money, American money, all the American money in the world, and it was his. It was all his._

"Sir?" Brad turned his head to see an old man, quavering with nervousness.

Brad smiled evilly. He saw the man shudder, saw him shield his eyes and knew that the geezer was temporarily blinded by the light from his glasses.

All the money America had, and shiny glasses. This must be heaven.

"Sir, the stupid people are here for their daily slapping," the servant finally managed to relate.

Brad rubbed his hands together. All the American money in the world, shiny glasses and stupid people to slap. This was better than heaven!

"Aya Fujimiya is here as well," the old man quavered.

Brad brightened even more. The old man cried out piteously as he was burned from the light reflecting off his glasses.

"Why is he here?" Brad demanded.

"He wants you to…" the man paused, coughing discreetly. "I believe he said he wants you to 'sex him up,' sir."

Yes! All the American money in the world, shiny glasses, stupid people **and**…

Schluldig's mental image moved on. Brad's dreams were really…something else. He presented such a sophisticated image to the world, and his dreams were on the level of a fourteen-year-old's.

Nagi's room was next. Schuldig was amused to notice that the boy was sleeping without his jammies. His dreams were probably more interesting than fields of money and shiny glasses.

__

"That's right! We'll move in together!" Tot exclaimed happily.

Nagi smiled back at her, relieved. He would have a normal life. A happy, domestic, normal life, with a beautiful woman and a cat and a dog and…

"And Omi, the Bringer of Passion!" shouted a voice.

Nagi started and Tot pouted, both turning to the source of the sound.

Schuldig's eyes widened as he saw the product of Nagi's fantasy.

The sweet, innocent baby of Weiss looked anything but sweet and innocent. He was covered in leather. Well, covered is an exaggeration - large amount of his pale, smooth skin were very exposed. He wore long black gloves that reached almost to his shoulders, and in one hand he clutched a pair of handcuffs, in the other a long whip.

"C'mere, Nagi, you naughty boy," he purred. "You need punishing, and Omi-kun's just the one to do it."

Schuldig, unnoticed by all, slipped silently away. He wondered who would win - Tot or Omi. He wasn't putting any money on the Schreint chick, though.

Farferello lay in the center of his bed, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like a corpse. Schuldig imagine he'd gotten used that position during all the time he'd spent in straight jackets. The telepath slipped into the sleeping man's mind, uncertain what he'd find. Farfie's mind was a weird place.

__

"Look at you," Farfie murmured, fingering a blood-red rose. "So soft, so beautiful. You smell so nice…" He gazed at the flower for a moment. Carefully, he reached out and pulled it from the bush it grew on. 

"Pretty flower, smells so good…" he crooned. "God loves pretty flowers. They grow in the gardens in His heaven, and the angels pick them."

Suddenly he roared loudly, and begin to tear wildly at the blossom in his hands. Laughing maniacally, he pulled the bloom of its stem, shredded the petals, crushing them, tearing them, dropping them on the ground and twisting his heel on them, digging them into the earth.

"Die, beautiful flower!" he screamed. "Die! Bloom no more!"

He threw his head back and screeched to the sky. "I have killed Your rose, God!" he shrieked. "Weep, for Your beautiful flower is dead! Next, I will kill **all** roses. Then lilies, and phlox and chrysanthemums! Feel the suffering of the foliage that believed in You!"

Still chuckling, Farferello moved away from the wreckage of the rose, stopping in front of another bunch of plants. Reaching out, he lightly caressed a delicate purple flower.

"Look at you, violet," he whispered. "So small, so pretty…"

Schuldig pulled out of the dream, sighing. He didn't want to spend the rest of this night watching Farfie destroy legions of the Lord's herbage.

Moving back to his own mind, Schuldig frowned in concentration, still crunching on his popcorn. This next part would be harder. Weiss' minds weren't as familiar to him, and they were farther away. Plus, it was always harder to put things into a mind than just observe what was there.

But the challenge was half the excitement.

****

If we slide on over and accept fate

Then it's bound to be a powerful thing

Aya roared in frustration as the helicopter lifted up and flew into the night.

"Takatori!" he roared, flinging his katana at the retreating machine in a largely futile gesture of defiance.

"What good will that do, Weiss?" came a voice from behind him.

Aya started, whirling around. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

Crawford smirked at him. "It's your dream, you tell me," he murmured slyly.

"You should be in the helicopter," Aya reproved him sternly.

Schuldig snickered. It was so much fun to play with Weiss. They were all so literal minded. Carefully, he inserted himself into the dream, melding with Aya's dream-image of Crawford.

__

"You want me to be here," Crawford told Aya boldly.

"I want to kill you!" Aya announced, lifting his arms to deliver a death blow, obviously forgetting that his katana was sticking in the roof twenty feet away.

"You want to fuck me," Crawford corrected calmly.

Schuldig snickered again, both at the horrified look on Aya's face - the boy, even in his dream, had gone even paler than his usual chalky white - and at the thought of Crawford being so blunt.

__

"I…What?!" Aya gasped.

Crawford moved even closer, staring down into the other man's eyes. "You heard me, Fujimiya," he purred. "Can you deny it?"

'Let him suck on that one for awhile,' Schuldig thought gleefully. He rubbed his mental hands together. He should go through the others first, but he needed a taste - just a little taste - of the best dish first. He'd get to everyone. But he just couldn't wait to get just a nibble of Kudo.

**__**

If it's just that you're weak

Can we talk about it?

Unlike with the others, Schuldig didn't bother to hide his presence or disguise himself when he slipped into Yohji Kudo's dream.

_"Why do you still bother with this?" he asked scornfully, looking disdainfully around the dusty alley._

"Get lost, Schuldig," Yohji gasped, holding his hand to the bleeding wound on his torso.

"It's over. It's done. You can't do anything about it. Why torture yourself?" the German asked with genuine curiosity.

"Get out of my dream," Yohji gasped, lowering his head to rest on the dirty ground.

"But it's not real!" Schuldig reminded him. He snapped his fingers and everything disappeared. "See?" he asked rhetorically.

Yohji, wound gone, glared up at him. "Go away," he repeated angrily.

"But I still want to know. Why this dream, over and over and over?"

"You wouldn't understand," Yohji muttered. "It's my…it's my penance."

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "Oh," he murmured. "Melodrama," he pronounced, mouthing the word distastefully.

"That's it," Yohji said flatly. "Out of my head."

The younger man closed his eyes firmly, and drifted off to another part of the sleep cycle, leaving his dream behind.

Schuldig grinned. He'd been playing with Yohji a long time. The other man was delicious. His appetite was just whetted, but he'd have to wait until Kudo returned to the dream stage. Until then…

****

It's gotten so damn creepy

Just nursing this ghost of a chance

This fictional romance

Maybe he'd help Nagi out a little. The poor kid had been in lust with his Weiss counterpart for ages. Personally, Schuldig thought it was a particularly pathetic case of puppy love, but if it made the kid happy…

__

Omi smiled happily. Another day at the flower shop, surrounded by beautiful blossoms, working with his friends, with plenty of pretty girls to smile at.

His smile faltered a little as the scene began to change.

"Time for school!" "See you later Omi-kun!" "Bye!" 

All the girls were gone. Omi shrugged philosophically. Oh well. At least he'd have some time to hang out with the guys.

"Bye Omi."

"See ya, Omi-kun."

"Later, O-Man."

"Where…where are you going?" Omi demanded as the others all untied their aprons and headed for the door.

Aya turned and leveled a shimmering violet glare at him. "Out," he said succinctly.

Yohji winked at him. "Hey, the day is young and so are the women!" he smirked. "Gotta make the most of both before they age!"

Schuldig had to suppress another giggle.

__

"I am going to show how upright and noble I am despite my assassin status by spending the day serving as a role model for children," Ken said seriously before he too was gone.

Schuldig forced himself to concentrate. It was just too much fun being Ken.

__

Omi blinked at the door. Well! Now what?

He turned away to tidy u p some displays, when the bell on the door jangled. 

He turned, and saw Nagi - the youngest member of Schwarz!

The hair on Omi's arms prickled as he reached for his weapon - an enemy! In his shop!

Schuldig frowned. He wasn't supposed to fight him.

__

Omi blinked in confusion as the lights slowly dimmed and soft music began to play in the background.

"Omi," Nagi breathed, his voice husky. "I'm here for you."

Schuldig winced. Working with teenagers was tough. There was a fine line between the soap opera dialogue they still believed life mirrored and utter and complete ridiculousness. Luckily if he made a mistake and crossed that line they usually didn't notice.

****

And the Technicolor dreams

Of black and white people

Schuldig grinned. Everything was going according to plan. He'd inserted the idea of Schwarz into Weiss' dreams. Weiss was already in Schwarz'. Perfect.

Except for one thing…

****

One boy headstrong

Schuldig frowned. Ken seemed to be the most open of all Weiss. Even Omi seemed to have a few more guilty secrets than Hidaka. Ken was just…Ken. He played soccer. Liked kids. Honestly enjoyed working with the flowers. He had no shameful family background, no murdered love to avenge, no dying sister to seek justice for. Someone had slipped something nasty in his Gatorade and it had all gone downhill from there.

Why then, was it so hard to get into Ken's mind?

****

Think that living here's just plain

Schuldig was dimly aware of the sweat forming on his body from the mental effort he was exerting to get into Ken's mind. Finally, with a skill born of long practice, he found a chink in Ken's mental armor and slipped into the sleeping boy's mind.

What he found was not so much a dream as a mental dialogue.

**__**

"This sucks," Ken told himself mournfully. He was sitting on a stool and a spotlight was focused on him. That was it - surrounding him was a wide expanse of blackness.

"I could be in Australia," he continued. "I could have a koala bear. And a motorcycle. And regular sex."

He sighed again. "Instead, I live here. The flowers are fun. The guys are ok. I'd miss them if I was in Australia. But I have to kill people. With a claw."

He looked at his hand, and the claw was there, shining in the light from the spotlight.

"You know, it's not fair," he grumbled. "Omi gets darts. He can shoot people from the next room. Yohji can be ten, twenty feet away with the wire. Aya at least gets to be a sword's length away." He scowled. "But I get the claw. I get the up close and personal part of the process." He sighed heavily again. "This sucks."

He's pushed down so hard

You can hear him start to sink

Schuldig frowned. This was boring. How to liven it up? He returned his attention to the dream.

_"…why all the girls are so into Yohji. He smokes like a chimney. I don't have **any** unwholesome habits and not nearly as many girls like me…"_

Ken was being a bit of a whiner, Schuldig decided. He grinned suddenly. Why not give him something to whine about.

He concentrated for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, figuratively speaking, Farferello was standing beside him.

__

"Where are we?" he asked calmly, fingering the knife in his hands.

"Never mind," Schuldig told him dismissively. "I just wanted to show you something."

He turned to where Ken was sitting. "Look at his weapon," he commanded.

Farferello looked, and shrugged. "Seen it lots of times," he grunted.

"But look at it, Farfie," Schuldig breathed. "Look at it. See how the steel shines? Look how clean it is, how sharp they are. Imagine how it tastes…the metal of each claw against your tongue…"

Farferello's one remaining eye gleamed. Without another word to Schuldig, he turned and strode toward the center of the spotlight.

Ken broke off his monologue in surprise as Farferello appeared before him.

"I want to lick your claw," Farferello told him without preamble.

Schuldig cackled gleefully as he absorbed the look of horror on the young man's face.

__

With a strangled shout of horror, Ken leaped off the stool and began to run. Farferello followed close on his heels, his mouth slack with lust.

Well, there's one Weiss boy's night ruined. Schuldig grinned.

What now? 

****

And it's one last round of petty conversation

He decided on a quick detour into Omi's mind. The boy hadn't gotten very far at all. With an exasperated sigh, Schuldig reached out for Nagi, pulling the boy from his dream with Tot and Omi the Love Master into Omi's dream in the florist shop. It was a much more suitable setting. Nagi was really too young for dreams like the one he'd been having.

They didn't make an auspicious beginning. Once the real Nagi was there, rather than himself playing Nagi, the conversation turned into typical teen school dance talk, which involved lots of blushing and staring at your own feet. He'd check back on them soon to see if they'd progressed past.

****

You hold on boy cuz

You won't go down like this

Darting back into Crawford's mind Schuldig shook his head and groaned. Even Nagi's dreams were more mature.

_"Please, Mr. Crawford," Aya begged humbly. "Please sex me up."_

"Why should I?" Crawford demanded. "Can you give me American money?"

"No," Aya admitted.

"Can you give me shinier glasses than the ones I already have?" Crawford asked, moving his head to demonstrate how well his spectacles caught the light.

Aya shook his head sadly.

"Can you give me stupider people to slap than these?" he continued, gesturing toward a groaning heap of very stupid-looking people.

"I don't think so," Aya said doubtfully.

"Then why should I?" Crawford sneered

"Please?" Aya implored.

Crawford loomed over the slight form of the Weiss assassin, leering down at him. "Beg me - beg me to take you and I might consider it," he smirked.

Schuldig grinned as he assessed where Aya's dream had progressed to. This should be about the perfect point to move Mr. Bradley over.

****

Just roll on over

Lay down till it's more than you can take

Brad smirked down at the cowing form of the once-proud Aya Fujimiya. "Beg," he repeated in a whisper.

"Damn you!" roared the other.

Brad jumped, badly startled. He looked around - his field of money, his pile of stupid people, his nervous, obsequious servant - all were gone. He was on the darkened roof of some nasty city building. He put a hand to his face and recoiled - his glasses! They were gone!

"First you deny me my vengeance," Aya raged, "then you mock my demand for justice, then you seduce me and now you think I'll **beg**?!" The red-head growled up into Crawford's confused face. "You go too far, Crawford!"

With one powerful movement, Aya flipped over, rolling so that he was on top and Crawford lay beneath him. Crawford realized, shocked, that all his clothing was gone, and, as Aya pressed him down into the rough surface of the roof, that Aya's was too.

"You go too far," Aya growled again. "I will show you what it is to toy with the body of a Fujimiya!" he shrieked. 

Crawford moaned, unable to move, unable to escape the sudden onslaught of hands and fingers and mouth and tongue that seemed obsessed with the task of driving him insane, of overloading his body with pleasure, of driving him to the edge of madness.

"Fujimiya!" he gasped. "My God…Aya!"

Schuldig laughed so hard he choked on a mouthful of popcorn. Sitting up, he hacked and coughed until the obstruction was clear. Settling back, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. That was beautiful. He toyed with the idea of going back to watch more, tempted by the ache in his loins, but that very idea reminded him of someone he's like much more to see. Yohji had to be back in the dream cycle by now.

****

If it's just that you're weak

Can we talk about it?

"Oh, for crying out loud," Schuldig said in disgust.

Yohji ignored him, feeling his blood seep into the dust of the alley.

"You need therapy," Schuldig told him flatly.

"Get lost," Yohji muttered. He rested his forehead on the ground. "Asuka," he murmured desolately. "My fault. All my fault."

It's gotten so damn creepy

Just nursing this ghost of a chance

This fictional romance

Schuldig snorted in disgust. He opened his eyes, blinking slightly in vertigo at the sight of his own bedroom. That was the downside of playing around in other people's dreams for too long. Reality tended to start to seem strange, while the bizarre ramblings of other peoples' subconscious seemed normal.

Schuldig put the bowl of popcorn aside and wrapped his arms around his knees, scowling into the darkness. He was getting a little tired of visiting Yohji's dreams night after night, only to see the same tired old retelling of the same depressing dream.

He should quit. It was getting very old, and it wasn't getting him anywhere. He wasn't any closer to actually seducing Yohji than he was the first night, when Yohji had amazed, horrified and intrigued him by picking up on his presence in the dream.

Yohji had continued to dismiss him, though, insisting on reliving his own private torment again and again and again.

Schuldig scowled. He wouldn't quit! 

But he'd better see what was going on with some of the others.

****

And the Technicolor dreams

Of black and white people

What a selection. Schuldig grinned at the images dancing in front of his eyelids.

__

"Oh, Nagi!" Omi couldn't believe the way the other boy's skin felt against his. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Nagi's hands running down his chest, along his side, down, God farther down, between his legs, touching his…

Schuldig moved on. He didn't have any compunctions about watching other people's sex dreams, but somehow this seemed like kiddie porn.

__

"Answer me, Crawford!" Aya demanded, poised above the other man. His hard-muscled, bare chest glistened with sweat. His face was shadowed but his eyes gleamed down at Crawford despite the darkness. "Answer me! Who's your daddy?"

"Aya…" Crawford moaned desperately.

"Answer me!" Aya warned, moving back, withdrawing another inch in warning.

"Nooo…" Crawford moaned, clutching Aya's shoulders, trying to pull him back down.

"Answer me!" Aya commanded, wrapping his fingers around Crawford's straining erection.

"Aaaahhh!" Crawford moaned. "God! You…you are, Aya!" he shrieked. "You're my daddy! Now do it! **Do it**!" 

With a growl of satisfaction, Aya slammed down, impaling the leader of Schwarz.

Schuldig shook his head in amazement. Who'd have ever guessed? Uke Crawford, seme Aya. Just seemed…backwards, somehow.

__

"I wanted to lick it!" Farferello shouted. "I want to lick your weapon!" 

"Get away from me, you psycho!" Ken shouted, still running for his life. "For the love of God, leave me alone!"

"The love of God?" Farferello whispered, an even more mad light coming into his eyes. "God will love it if I stop?" He actually paused for a moment, considering. "IT WILL HURT GOD IF I LICK YOUR WEAPON!" he howled. "I must lick it!"

****

So one more day down

And everybody's changin'

Schuldig laughed and laughed, and when he was done, laughed some more. Poor Ken.

He leaned back and considered the night's work.

Well, it seemed to have gone quite well for Omi and Nagi. He grinned as he caught waves of contentment exuding from the boy's room down the hall. They would wake up confused and bereft, but maybe it would convince them to pursue something…If not, at least it would probably persuade Nagi to actually launder his sheets _before_ they started molding.

Crawford and Aya….Schuldig couldn't help but chuckle. The morning would certainly bring a rude awakening for them both. They were finding out things they hadn't known before…Depending on how long they slept, Schuldig decided, he might just have to stop back for another look.

Ken and Farfie… Well, that was just fun. Schuldig grinned. Poor, poor Ken. And he'd thought he disliked his claws before…

****

One soft sweet sound

Just enough to reach my head

But the night wasn't complete. Schuldig rolled over onto his side and sighed. He didn't even need a sex dream. He just wanted…a conversation. Acknowledgement. Something more than being ordered away so that Yohji could wallow in his guilt some more.

'The Hell with it,' Schuldig thought grumpily. He settled down on his pillows. He'd had his entertainment. He might as well go to sleep. He briefly considered getting Farfie out of Ken's dream, but decided against it. He was in a pissy mood - why spare Ken.

Sulkily, he burrowed his head in his pillows, attempting to drown out the murmur of voices that always filled his subconscious when he wasn't paying attention to anything in particular.

But he couldn't. He was too keyed up, had been too deep into the minds of Schwartz and Weiss. He wasn't entirely separate from them. It wasn't working, but he was stubbornly trying to block them all out so intensely that he almost missed it.

One quiet, searching little voice.

Calling his name.

__

Schuldig.

He opened his eyes. Who would be calling him? Each of them involved in their own worlds, with each other…who would be thinking of him?

He reached out with his mind, searching, until he found the source of the voice.

Yohji.

****

Yeah, if it's just that you're weak

Can we talk about it?

"What?" Schuldig asked guardedly. 

Yohji looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor of that damn alley. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Schuldig groaned. "You called me," he pointed out acerbically.

Yohji snarled. "I did not!" he insisted.

"Don't lie to a telepath," Schuldig advised. "What do you want?"

"I…"

Schuldig sighed. He reached down and pulled Yohji to his feet, deleting the depressing image of the alley. He didn't bother to create anything else - it was just him and Yohji, standing in the middle of nothing.

"What do you want?" Schuldig asked again.

Yohji sighed and looked at the ground. "I…I just didn't want to be there alone," he admitted. "I…hate that dream. I have it all the time, but you usually keep interrupting it until it goes away. But you didn't come back this time. So…"

"So you called me," Schuldig finished for him.

Yohji flushed, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well?" Schuldig asked after a minute.

Yohji looked up, frowning.

"What do you want?" Schuldig pressed.

It's gotten so damn creepy

Just nursing this ghost of a chance

This fictional romance

Yohji scowled. "Nothing. Never mind," he muttered angrily. He waved his hand at the other man. "Just leave. Just go. Back to your own mind."

Schuldig regarded him for a moment. He could just leave. Should, probably. But…Every night, it was the same thing. He was tired, sick and tired of watching Yohji relive the same trauma. And he was tired of wanting the green-eyed man and never, ever getting him.

He knew Yohji wanted him. One of the many benefits of telepathy. But he knew also that Yohji was determined never to sleep with him, never to betray Asuka and Weiss and Kritiker by sleeping with a member of Schwartz.

But he knew Yohji wanted him.

Hell with it.

__

He reached out suddenly and grasped Yohji's arm, pulling him against his chest. "Why did you call me, Yohji?" he asked huskily. "Why did you let me take you out of the alley?" He pulled Yohji even closer, wrapping both arms around the assassin. "What did you want?"

Yohji stared at him wordlessly from bare inches away. Schuldig could feel the other man's arousal pressing against him. This was it. This was his chance.

And the Technicolor dreams

Of black and white people

Schuldig lowered his head slowly, staring into Yohji's eyes. The tall man didn't move, didn't try to pull away. Slowly, Schuldig pressed his lips to Yohji's and kissed him - slowly, lightly at first, then more passionately, more deeply. He felt triumph rise from deep inside him as he sought and gained entrance to Yohji's mouth, swept his tongue against the other man's, tasted him…

Then Yohji pulled away.

"No, Schuldig," he said clearly. "I won't do this."

Schuldig stared at him, trying to catch his breath.

"Stay out of my dreams," Yohji ordered.

Then he was gone.

He'd woken up.

****

Yeah, if it's just that you're weak

Can we talk about it?

Schuldig stared at the entirely uninteresting ceiling of his bedroom. He didn't know how long he'd been perusing that uninteresting sight. It seemed like years, but it was probably only a half-hour or so.

Since he'd been rejected.

Utterly.

Commanded to stay away.

Dissed.

Schuldig scowled as Nagi's word flitted across his mind. Suave, international, telepathic terrorists didn't use the latest high school slang.

But the word fitted.

He cursed his own stupidity. Why had he ever imagined Kudo would let him have him, even in a dream?

Why had he tried so hard?

Why did he even care?

It was just stupid.

****

It's gotten so damn creepy

Just nursing this ghost of a chance

This fictional romance

How long had he spent trying to seduce the Weiss assassin? Too damn long, he decided in irritation.

Night after night. Using precious sleep time to infiltrate the other's dream. Well, no more. 

Who needed Yohji Kudo?

He'd just sleep, from now on.

Or else he'd play with other people's dreams, like he had tonight.

He grinned at the memory.

Maybe it was time to check on his little puppets.

****

And the Technicolor dreams

Of black and white people

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and was rewarded with three flashes of color. They were still dreaming. More likely, he corrected himself, they were dreaming again. Dreams didn't last that long, really, but the links he had made were lasting. When one sleeper slipped out of the dream cycle, the connection would hold until they returned to that stage of sleep and the dream would continue, probably without either dreamer being aware of the lull.

He paused for a moment, trying to decide which dream to revisit, when he was startled from his reverie by the sound of the hinges on his door creaking. He opened his eyes, sat up and reached for his weapon in one fluid moment…

…only to stop when he saw who was there, leaning casually against his doorframe.

"I mean it," Yohji warned. "Stay out of my dreams. Stay out of my mind."

"Ok," Schuldig agreed quietly, trying to block the other man's thoughts.

"I'm not a mind fuck," Yohji told him. "I don't like being played with like that."

"I didn't mean to…"

"If you want me, do it right," Yohji interrupted flatly.

Schuldig stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You mean…"

Yohji raised a brow at him. "I thought you were a little smoother than this," he drawled.

Schuldig got up and crossed the door, stopping in front of the other man. He twined the fingers of one hand through the hair on the back of Yohji's head, and pulled the other man's face to his for a deep, wild, bruising kiss. 

He pulled away suddenly, staring deep into Yohji's eyes. "Is this a dream?" he asked quietly.

Yohji laughed. "If it is you're in big trouble. I told you to stay out of my dream," he reminded the telepath.

Schuldig grinned. "If I'm in trouble, I might as well enjoy it," he quipped, pulling Yohji to the bed and falling on top of him.

A long time later they lay tangled together in the big bed, Yohji's head on Schuldig's chest. The Schwartz fighter knew that this was only a temporary truce. In the light of day Yohji was Weiss and he was Schwartz. Enemies. They couldn't be together, couldn't always have this…

Probably, that was a good thing. They were different in too many ways, alike in too many others. They'd probably kill or severely injure each other if they were around each other a lot.

But they could have stolen moments like this. And they could dream.

Dream!

The others!

They were going to be damn exhausted in the morning.

Schuldig closed his eyes and concentrated.

****

We're black and white people

Crawford crouched on his hands and knees, feeling the rough surface of the roof dig into his tender flesh. He groaned as Aya thrust into him.

"Say it!" the redhead demanded.

Crawford whimpered. "Thank you, sir, may I have another?" he gasped.

Yeah, we're black and white people

Omi sighed, burrowing closer to Nagi, sleepily nuzzling his bare chest.

Nagi stroked his hair gently, letting the soft strands slip through his fingers.

"'Night, Nagi-kun," Omi whispered drowsily. "I lo-,"

"Shhh," Nagi whispered, gently brushing his fingers over the other boy's lips. "Goodnight, Omi-kun. Sleep well."

Yeah, we're black and white people

"I WANT TO LICK IT!" Farferello shrieked, dancing in frustration. "IT WILL HURT GOD!"

"I'm going to hurt **you** if you put your filthy tongue anywhere near me!" Ken shouted over his shoulder, still sprinting toward nothing.

"I WANT TO LICK YOUR WEAPON!" Farferello repeated, giving chase. "I MUST lick it!"

Schuldig tried to hold it back, but he couldn't help laughing.

"Wha's funny?" Yohji muttered sleepily.

"Nothing, Yohji," Schuldig assured him, rubbing his bare back. "Just…well, if I were you, I'd stay away from the flower shop tomorrow. I don't think it's going to be a good day to be Weiss."

~Owari~

Shoori: Well? What do you think, guys?

Schuldig: I think you have a lot more reading to do before you have even the slightest grasp of my characterization, woman.

Yohji: Ditto. You think I'm going to wander into the middle of the Schwarz safehouse in the middle of the night, by myself, just to screw Schuldig?

Shoori: Well, maybe that was a little unrealistic, but…

Schuldig: What do you mean, just to 'screw' Schuldig? Is that what we do, as far as you're concerned? Screw?

Yohji: Oh for crying out loud…that's what we did in that story, SchuSchu!

Schuldig: That's fine. Good to know. I'm glad to know where I stand.

Shoori: Anyway…

Omi: I liked it.

Nagi: (smiling at him): Me too

Crawford: Me too!

Aya: (glaring at him): Who gave you permission to speak?

Crawford: Sorry, Master

Shoori (squeaking nervously as the tips of several very sharp steel claws press against her neck): Kenken? Don't do anything rash now…

Ken: 'I want to lick your weapon?' Don't think I didn't get that very perverse innuendo, lady. If you _ever_ do that again…

Shoori: It was just a running gag…so that I didn't _really_ have to hook you up…

Ken: If you _ever…_

Shoori: I was just going for series counterparts! Blame the creators!

Yohji: So you made SchuSchu a weird mind meddler, me a whore, Omi and Nagi…well, you did ok with them…Aya a raging dom and Crawford an immature closet sub. I hope you're very proud of yourself

Shoori: You didn't like it

Yohji: (fingering his wire) You have ten seconds to finish typing.

Shoori: Eeep!

Yohji: Eight…seven…six…

Shoori: Err…bye!


End file.
